


Blue and Violet

by elephant_eyelash



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Servants
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-27
Updated: 2012-02-27
Packaged: 2017-10-31 19:13:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/347467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elephant_eyelash/pseuds/elephant_eyelash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set after the event in Ripon, but before the last episode of series one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blue and Violet

She smoothed over her hair and took a deep, sobering breath. She wouldn’t be surprised if he slammed the door in her face: it was what she deserved. She had abused their tentative friendship, his trust. She hadn’t considered him for a moment, considered his job (no, his livelihood) would be put in danger, and oh if it had—

The door opened before she had a chance to knock. They both jumped. He glanced nervously at the ground, and she had to puff up her chest and remind herself why she was here in order to fight her impulse to run away and avoid him forever.

“I owe you an apology.” She said, trying to stop her voice from shaking. He didn’t reply so she took another deep breath. “I was a silly little girl and I didn’t think about the implications it might have for you. You didn’t deserve it and I’ll understand if you hate me forever.”

She looked down at the floor and felt her cheeks burn. It was only when she heard a squeak of a laugh from him that she looked upwards.

“Your Ladyship.” He said, grinning. “I appreciate your apology but it’s not needed.”

“What?”

“A little rebellion’s a healthy thing, really.” He said, shutting the door behind him. “I couldn’t rightly lend you Das Kapital and then tell you off for attending a count, could I?”

She felt herself smile, and he smiled too, and they began a slow walk upwards towards the garage. The sun shone a cold light and the air had a bite to it- perfect walking weather, weather for getting lost in. Independently they thought of childhoods drowning in autumn leaves and skimming stones.

“I’m so relieved.” She sighed. “I would never have forgvien myself if you’d have lost your job.” She smiled a little smile to herself and added. “I even threatened to run away.”

He looked at her profile for a minute, something swirling within him, something unfamiliar— he was happy that she had—maybe?— no.

“Where to?”

“Hm?”

“Where would you have run away to?”

“Oh, um, I’m not sure.” She said. Again she felt that familiar sense of being very much the little girl in front of the worldly man. “I didn’t really think it through.”

“Well, I’d have been very sad.” He said without hestitation. There was a somewhat awkward pause, but the chirping of the birds and soft crunch of the gravel beneath their feet filled it well enough.

“I suppose I should be getting back.” She said, hands behind her back. There was a note of loss in her voice, of regret, or maybe he was imagining things. Maybe she was trained to talk that way, but he didn’t like to think that of her, however uncomfortable the truth might be (the cold mask of the aristocracy can trick you into seeing things that aren’t there, he warned himself).

“I suppose.” He said.

“I’ll see you soon.” She said. He wasn’t sure if it was a question or a statement or a demand from her. Once again he became acutely aware of the distance between them. How could this be a friendship, truly, when she held all the power? She wasn’t aware of it, but with a flick of her wrist or a careless word she could devastate him. She held so much of him in her hands. He still felt her blood on his fingers, no matter how hard he tried to wash it away. In his dreams the limp weight of her in his arms crushed him, robbing him of all his breath. And he—

He was in love with her. He was in love with Sybil Crawley. 

Christ, he needed a drink.

That night he thought of all the women in his life. He remembered Nan , the girl he kissed in the park when he was six. Then Hattie and that humid summer spent kissing and feeling and screwing. Molly next (though he really didn’t want to go there tonight) and Mrs Greene (again, he needed more drink before he even thought of her). Their images swirled together, all the sensations, the ups and downs in a blast of colour and sound.

Then the blast cleared, and there she was, smiling sweetly in shades of blue and violet.


End file.
